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Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God

Earth has undergone an odd change. Expanding by millions of times its original size, its population was suddenly split into two halves. On one side, there was a group of technologically advanced humans. But, on the other, a world of cultivation had grown and pospered. The secrets that led to this change have been hidden in the darkness for too long... Until there came a day where a boy born on the Mortal side of the world was found to have the talent to enter the Martial side. Having lost both of his parents to a hidden tide, he chose to leave all that he had known behind and enter this land of danger. What truths would he unveil? What would he learn about what separated the Mortals from the Cultivators? What hidden evils wanted to ensure that his people never rose up and gained power? And how would those evils... deal with him? ---- This list of things I hate is quite long. The first is that I hate to be tested the most. The second is that I hate to be tested the most. The third also happens to be that I hate to be tested the most. The ocean's depths are too shallow, the sun's light too dim, the ground too mundane and the skies too small. For those born of this colorless world to deem themselves worthy of casting judgement on me... I can only say that it's laughable. I am the Nameless Immortal God because even the Heavens themselves are unworthy to name me. Even while I am unaware of my own identity, I will dry the oceans until cracked land is all that is left, I will cast the sun into endless darkness, I will shatter the ground with my feet and sunder the skies with my blade. Am I too arrogant? What right do you have to think that? --- https://discord.gg/awespec

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On another side of the forest, another group was making their way through. And, their atmosphere was much less adorable…

A young man with bronze skin sat with massive buddha prayer beads hanging around his neck. He wore loose and baggy pants with twisted rope a foot thick wrapped around his waist and ending as a bow to his back. Dyon would have recognized these as the ceremonial ropes of sumo wrestlers in the human world, known as shimenawa.

A faint dark gold energy emanated off of him as he was carried on a throne by four bald monks. And yet, despite monk-like attire, the young man had a long head of golden hair.

Every so often on their journey, one of the throne bearers would fall victim to a fluctuation in space, having them instantly be replaced by another among the hundreds trekking through the dense forest. Yet, the changes in space seemed to have absolutely no effect on the young man as he continued to sit completely oblivious to the deaths of his men.